#tw scratching

The oppressive warmth of the kitchens below the castle billowed around Ava, as she slipped in through the servant's entrance and hurried past smoking cauldrons of trout soup and the thumping sound of cutting knives hitting wood.

"Goodness, are you back again?" One of the cooks, an older woman with deeply tanned skin and a puckering scar across her cheek, called after her.

But Ava ignored her, and she ignored the usual pleasant greetings of the kitchen staff.

There was only one person on her mind.

Further in the back, where the heat dispersed through tiny warped-glass windows, and earthy smell of fresh herbs overcame the sickly stench of sweating women standing over sweltering ranges.

"Oh, good evening Ava."

There she was, as always, standing buried to the hip in crates of herbs and spices and roots and bugs, and all things that could be plucked from the floor of the forests beyond the castle walls.

"Lily -" Ava muttered, her voice a hoarse croak.

Already she felt drawn to tears.

The girl faced her with a calm, crooked smile and blinking long lashes over grey-green eyes, wide and round through her thick spectacles.

"Oh dear, what's happened now?"

"Lily, let's do it, today."

"Do…?"

"Lets run away -"

Ava's trembling hands, almost of their own accord, reached out to clasp at Lily's and pulled towards the door. She could feel the creases of her face, screwed in urgency, and the infuriating sting of tears in the back of her throat.

Lily's smile fell, her big eyes glanced past Ava to the door - which still hung half open - and then back again.

"All of the sudden? I - I haven't packed, we don't have food or plans, let's talk later tonight and we can leave first thing tomor-"

"No, today! Right now!" Ava urged in a hiss, swallowing hard against her rising temper.

She could hear it.

The telltale click of heeled boots on the cracked stones of the kitchen floor.

A sound that could never be scrubbed from her mind.

"Wait, Ava, tell me what's the matter. When we last talked you didn't even hear me out, and -"

"Stop arguing!" Ava snapped, "We have to go! Now!"

"We - we can't just leave without a -"

"Avaline."

The chill of her name being spoken by that same calm, flat tone ran all the way up Ava's spine and washed all the colour from her face.

Both of them turned to face the door, where stood the steward to the king in his silken amber finery and cutting a vastly different silhouette to anyone else that should have been in the kitchens.

Lily presented a quick bow to the Steward, and Ava - after a long, cruel moment of eye contact with the man - also gave a bow.

"Yes, my Lord." Ava responded through clenched teeth.

"I hadn't realised a chamber maid had so much free time as to lark about in the herb cupboard of the kitchens…"

He tilted a mildly disdainful look at Lily, who wilted under his gaze.

Ava's hands clasped tightly together, so tightly that her nails dug deeply into her palm.

Everything in her screamed to run.

Push past him, leave Lily behind, just run and never look back.

But instead, she took a half-step in front of her friend.

"I don't, my Lord. I…I had a stomachache. And came to get some numbing herbs. That's all."

The Steward sniffed at the answer, but didn't bother probing.

"It's getting on towards night," the Steward said, "His Majesty will need a fresh fire in the hearth."

Ava took in a sharp breath through her nose.

What a joke.

The King always kept his own fire.

"I'm really not feeling well, my Lord. I wouldn't want to make his Majesty ill…"

She could feel Lily's eyes on her; confused, uncertain. The pain of guilt stung in her chest, her eyes lingered on the floor and the fine doeskin boots that belonged to the Steward.

Her mind was reeling with memories -

The fierce burn of fear in her stomach, the contained fury at touches too gentle, burning, rough skin, wet lips and teeth…

"Well, I suppose I could always find someone else…"

Ava flinched, raising her head to watch the Steward's eyes fall appraisingly on Lily.

Ava looked nothing like her friend; where she had soft curves Ava was flat and lanky, where Lily's tan, round face was framed with tight honey-brown curls, Ava's hair was limp and dark, and hung in curtains around her slim, sallow face.

In anyone's eyes, Lily was the better choice - the more succulent cut of meat.

A shudder like a bolt of lightning went through her.

With a careful, slow step, Ava raised a defending arm in front of Lily, setting her jaw and squaring her shoulders.

"She…is a kitchen servant, not a chamber maid."

A tense moment passed.

Then the Steward shrugged, and Ava let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Take some herbs for your stomach," he instructed, "and then come out of here when you're finished."

The door clicked closed behind him as he left them alone - but it would only be for a moment. He wasn't used to waiting, and neither was the King.

"Why is the Royal Steward coming to fetch you in person?" Lily whispered as soon as the door clicked closed, "You tend the King now? What's going on?"

Ava shook her head, and tried to take a step but her knees had gone weak, and she stumbled against the wooden drawers that lined the walls of the herb closet.

"Nothing…" she mumbled, "nothing, nothing - I - I need to go now."

"Ava?" Lily reached out to steady her, but Ava could barely raise her head, and her shoulders jerked away from the gentle touch of her friend.

She'd expected the tears to come already, but they were stuck in a lump in her throat.

"It's okay, I'm okay - I have to go -"

"Wait, Ava -"

"Tomorrow," Ava said, turning a forced smile towards her, "Pack your things tonight. Let's both go, tomorrow."

Lily blinked her big eyes, her thick brows furrowed, and then her freckled face, which was beautiful in the warm light of the setting sun, relaxed slightly.

"Okay…" she agreed, "Tomorrow, then."

The slow march back through the kitchen was torture; every single eye in the room burned into her, the hiss of gossiping whispers, the bubbling of soup in a cauldron - the cacophony playing underneath the clicking of heels on stone.

For a moment Ava lingered, her eyes catching the glinting edge of a knife stuck in the countertop…

But the moment passed, and she continued on, and as if in the blink of an eye found herself once again standing outside the looming, carved doors of the King's bed chambers.

The Steward stood nearby, watching her with a brow raised.

Ava's heart was choking her, thumping so hard against the cage of her ribs it may as well have been trying to escape out through her chest.

Her hand trembled, hovering in the air as she raised it to knock.

Not again…she couldn't do it again…

A sharp rapping on the door made her jump - it was the Steward, who knocked in her place.

"Your Majesty," he called, " A maid has arrived to tend your hearth."

Every muscle in Ava's body tensed.

There was a silence that followed, which hung heavy on her with dread.

And then, from inside:

"Come in."

Her lips pressed into a tight line.

She glanced again at the Steward, but he wasn't even looking at her anymore.

Maybe she could run.

Surely she was at least faster than some pampered steward in heeled boots.

Could she dodge the guards? Could she make it to a door? Or even a window…?

Ava could feel her breaths coming short and quick, a feral sort of panic beginning to overcome her.

But just as she worked up the courage to turn and flee, the bedroom door creaked open, flooding the hall with flickering firelight - and standing silhouetted there was the broad, robed figure of the King.

His long mane of curled hair fell around his shoulders, and his square features were strangely lit in the dusty haze of firelight.

Standing heads above her, wide and orange and hunched, bedrobe shimmering in the darkness…he seemed almost a monster.

"Y…your Majesty - I -"

"I said come in, didn't I?"

"Yes - I - I just - I was just -"

Ava's words were cut off with a squeal as she the king clapped a fleshy hand on her arm and tugged her into the room.

His strength was familiar and overwhelming, pulling her around like a rag doll with one hand as he slammed his bedroom door closed with the other.

"You really do test my patience," he sighed, holding her out at arms length and raking his eyes over her body.

"Please let me go - your Majesty, I - I don't want -"

She was interrupted again when her arm was released with a rough shove, and she stumbled backwards into the middle of the room.

Her legs threatened to give out, and her body trembled with cold at the extremities despite the stifling warmth of the room from the full, crackling fire.

The king didn't come after her.

He stood, half-lit by the firelight, crimson silk robe hanging open to reveal his hair-covered chest and the slight bulge of his gut.

No matter how she tried, Ava couldn't catch her breath, couldn't pull her eyes away for fear that he would move without her knowing.

She flinched as he plodded an easy path across the rich carpet, right past her, and took a seat on the edge of the bed with a weary groan.

He sat for only a moment; expectant. Then heaved a sigh.

"Well? Strip." The king prompted.

Ava felt the stalled tears from earlier tearing up from her throat and pricking her eyes.

"No - no, no -"

"You'd rather do it clothed? Again?"

Ava's body lurched, fear too powerful for anger to grow. How could she snap at the king? How could she deny him?

"Please, your Majesty! Please, this isn't right -!"

"Enough. Come here."

"No - no, I - " Ava took a shaking step back.

"Come here, I say."

"I wont!"

She turned to flee - overcome by that same feral panic.

Not quick enough.

Despite his size, the king was fast and his hands fell on her before she could even take two steps. Or maybe he had expected this, ready to preempt an escape.

He gabbed at her clothes, and then her waist.

His arms folded around her like two great logs and pulled her back onto the bed

"Squirrely little thing," the king rumbled into her ear, forcing her arms down next to her head and hiking one of his knees between her legs.

"Stop! Please, don't do this, your Majesty -!"

She tried to twist and struggle out of his grasp, kicking out, straining her head away - but not daring to harm him. The ruler of the kingdom could just as easily send her to the castle prison for the rest of her life as he could send her straight to the gallows.

"You're the only one - the only one who refuses my favour," the king said huskily, pressing hot kisses down her tense neck.

He let go of one of her wrists to explore her body, and ignored her desperate shoves as he pulled the hem of her skirt up around her waist and squeezed her thigh.

"No, no - please - wait - !"

"You have no reason to deny me, I've never harmed you, have I? Aren't I your King? Where is your loyalty to the crown?"

His hand dipped between her thighs and rubbed at the heat there. Ava's breath caught sharply, her teeth clenched.

"I don't want to…" she sobbed, crying out as the king pressed a thick finger inside her; "I don't want to! Please!"

"You say that every time, but your body thinks differently," the king laughed into her ear.

Ava's sobs mixed bitterly with moans.

Waves of terrible pleasure crashed over her, shivered up her spine, and made her gasp for air.

"Please - please -!"

A sharp sting of pain shot up through her abdomen as his nail scratched her on the way out.

"Your Majesty, please - aghh!"

The robe fell away from his body as he pressed a burning hot bulge against the place he'd just finished with.

"Don't - don't!"

"Just keep squirming," the king breathed, "I like it."

The king forced himself inside her with a groan of pleasure.

A scream ripped from Ava's throat; a desperate, ragged, hopeless sound.

The king groaned and panted hot breath against the top of her head.

With a blind hand he tore the front of her dress open and groped at her breasts.

Her body jolted with each heavy thrust.

But, there was no pain.

Just the discomfort of fullness, the heat of a strong body crushing her, and numbness in the hand that was still being trapped tightly against the bed.

Far away, the fire still crackled in the hearth.

Through teary eyes, Ava could see the twisted, flickering shadows of herself and the king dancing on the far wall.

She almost removed herself from the moment entirely, but was brought crashing back to reality when the king sank his teeth into the soft flesh of her breast.

"Aaghh!"

"I said keep squirming, didn't I? Do I have to do everything myself?"

Ava tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a strangled sob.

The anger she'd been holding back burst out of her.

She wailed, and thrashed her head, and with her one free hand pushed and scratched - at the king's chest, at his face; she pulled his hair, and even tried to get at his eyes.

All the while, the king moaned and thrust into her, a leering grin on his wide face, seeming to enjoy every moment.

"Stop! Stop!" She screamed, trying to twist her hips away from him but stuck firmly pinned under his weight, "Get off of me! Get off! Disgusting bastard!"

The king's breath hitched, his hips crushed against her, faster and faster.

"Yes…" he groaned, taking a full swipe of her nails to his face, "Just a little more…"

"Stop! Don't! A - aghh!"

The king's entire body went rigid and still.

And with a loud groan he clutched her body close to him, crushing the air out of her and holding her in place.

Molten hot seed flooded inside of her.

Ava held her breath.

Tears fell from her eyes, hot and heavy as stones.

And then it was done.

The king let her fall back against the bed, out of breath, and sporting long red welts where her nails had done their damage.

"I like that little temper of yours," he said, "I like a little fight in a woman."

A wave of nausea bubbled up from Ava's stomach.

She choked back a sob, and finally managed to speak:

"…May I…go now, your Majesty…?"

But he was already up from the bed, pulling his robe around his naked body and heading towards the large wooden desk on the other side of the room.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Go on."

Achily, Ava pulled herself up from the bed.

Her hips twinged in protest and her womb ached.

Her wrist was welted and red from where he'd held her down.

The front of her dress hung open where it had been ripped.

And a thick slime was trickling down her thigh.

Ava forced her legs to move.

Slowly, carefully, like a deer trying not to wake a lion, she made her way towards the door.

Halfway there, the king called out to her - and her heart dropped like a stone into her stomach.

But only for a moment.

"Wait. Stoke the fire before you leave."

Ava turned to him, a hateful glare burning in her eyes. His head was down, reading through paperwork on his desk.

Then shuffled her aching body to the hearth, and half-heartedly poked at the coals with the stoker.

The red-hot metal tip, as she pulled it out of the fire, was a temptation.

Another time, maybe.

But not now.

She set it back down, and then hurried a little faster to the door.

The hallway was bitter cold in comparison to the heat from the king's bedroom. And a draft shivered across her bare skin, despite Ava's best attempt to hold the front of her dress closed.

The Steward was still standing outside. He must have heard the entire thing.

When he turned to her, there was no pity in his eyes, no interest at all.

He pressed a single gold coin into her hand, cleared his throat, and then resumed his post.

Ava looked down at the gold in her hand, black and dull in the dark of the hallway.

And her nausea came back.

It rumbled up from her stomach, and sent her running away down the hall, tears spilling, body screaming, until she found an open window far away from the king's bed chambers and heaved up everything she'd eaten that day into the grass below.

Her grip on the window sill pressed the gold coin into her palm.

She closed her fist around it.

Gold was rare for a palace servant…

A fitting reward for the king's favourite whore.

Ava raised her head, wiping away the bitter taste from her lips on the hem of her ruined dress.

Far away across the fields outside the palace, the sun had all but set. Only a touch of blinding amber still peeked over the horizon.

Tomorrow.

She and Lily would leave tomorrow.

And then...and then everything would be okay.

By order of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale: You will be bred by the Hydro Dragon.

All you could do was stare dumbfounded at the sentencing from the Oratrice, the courtroom a riot of concerned whispers. Face placid, Neuvilette had been kind enough not to read your punishment aloud, instead walking down to your place on stage and allowing you to read it for yourself.

He breathed heavily beside you, his body so close the heat of him was like an inferno. Impossible to ignore.

You shivered.

Normally being besides your former boss was cooling and refreshing like fresh, clean water on a hot day. Your mouth grew dry remembering all that and changed between the two of you, and now this sentencing.

In the history of Fontaine, no punishment like this had ever been issued before. At least, as far as you knew.

And what crime was so great that you had to give up your autonomy? Forgery. For the last year, you'd worked as Neuvilette's assistant, and one month ago you were approached by a man looking to reduce a friend's sentence in exchange for more money than you could imagine. You caved. You sliced off ten years from his sentence.

And you'd been caught. Fired on the spot and scheduled for trial.

And now you were being sentenced to be bred by the Hydro Dragon, Neuvilette, your ex-boss.

In the last week you spent in jail, you dreaded the moment you’d have to face him again. Neuvilette was undeniably likable, and not just for his pretty face or deep, smooth voice. He wasn’t necessarily your friend, but you trusted him and disappointing him felt like an unforgivable sin. He’d been so kind to you at work, always happy to see you and ready to offer advice when you needed it.

"Meet me at my place tomorrow night," Neuvilette said quietly so only you could hear. His deep voice rumbled through you like thunder on the horizon, a taste of what was to come. His pearl grey-blue eyes bore into you, slit pupils cold and calm. This was the Hydro Dragon, not the judge of Fontaine. "I'll try to make your sentencing as comfortable as possible."

And with that, he turned on his heel and left you alone on stage, clutching your punishment between shaking hands.

***

All the next day, night threatened your every move. Each time a cloud passed in front of the sun was a jolt to your nerves, shadows growing as the dreaded time crept closer. The idea of doing anything knowing that once the sun was gone you would be spread open and fucked until the hydro dragon's seed rooted in your core... It made doing anything else impossible.

Neuvilette was the unattainable workplace crush. He was unearthly beautiful and tall and spoke with a voice that was both commanding and sensual. No man could compare and yet he was on an entirely different level. No one had the courage to so much as talk to him about anything other than work. The one time you'd tried ended in an awkward discussion about the weather and him recommending a new brand of water.

Even worse, you weren't even sure what to wear. It's not like it would stay on your body all that long. But still, this was Neuvilette's house, he was always so put together and calm. Showing up in your pajamas would be an insult, and despite betraying him, you still respected him.

Eventually you settled on a modest dress, long enough to the knees with a zipper on the back to take off easily.

By the time you'd finished applying an inoffensive red lipstain to your mouth, the sun was burning red against the green hills of Fontaine.

No more stalling. It was time.

***

The dragon's house was grand, not because of its size, but because of its warmth. Two stories tall and covered in flowers, boxes at the windows and lovingly spaced around the perimeter. Ivy crawled up the walls and tangled with a rooftop vegetable garden.

Smoke puffed from the chimney. Warm light spilled from the windows, clear indications that Neuvilette was home. Waiting.

All you could do was knock.

Within moments the door opened, Neuvilette's imposing figure filling the doorway. Without his judge's robes—and dressed down in simply a dress shirt, pants, and pink apron—you nearly thought you had the wrong house. But those cold, serpent eyes remained the same as they drank you in.

"Please, come in." He said.

Inside was well decorated, new vases of flowers and polished wood furniture. The fresh scent of warm bread and hot food tangled in the air with wood polish and pollen. Floorboards creaked pleasantly under your weight, the scuff of your shoes overshadowed by the deep thud of Neuvilette's boots.

"I made dinner for you," he said. "I thought I should at least do that for you before we... begin."

You nodded but your empty stomach was twisting. You weren't sure how much you could even eat knowing that soon you'd be pinned down with your other mouth stuffed full of a completely different kind of hot soup.

The kitchen was cozy, big windows giving a view of the street outside. Mechanic lights glittered in the dark. A hand-carved table sat in the middle of the room with two chairs, one place set for you and him. His seat already had a glass of wine poured and half consumed. At least he was nervous about this, too.

He pulled your chair out for you and offered you wine, which you accepted. In silence, he served your meal and set his own down on the table.

"The Oratrice has never made a decision like this," Neuvilette began. "I... I cannot imagine why breeding must be your punishment but its decisions have never been wrong."

You could only nod.

He didn’t look at you, fiddling with the wine bottle. "I will try and make this night as comfortable as I can, but you should know that my body only looks human. Not all of me has the same... anatomy."

You blinked at him confused. "I don't understand."

Neuvilette raised one milky white hand—you hadn't even noticed he wasn't wearing his usual gloves—and presented two blue-stained fingers. "I have more than one member. But fear not, one should suffice for tonight's... activity."

"I see." Two?! He had two cocks under those tight pants? Your head was spinning and you hadn't even sampled the wine yet.

The rest of dinner was had in silence. Neuvillette collected the dishes and placed them in the sink. Then his hand was on the back of your chair, the heat of his body a physical weight you couldn't ignore. "Shall we move to the bedroom?" His voice was nearly a whisper, so quiet it would have been easy to ignore.

You couldn't.

Like a ghost you followed Neuvilette to his room on the second floor. He'd prepared for the evening. New bottles of lube sat on his twin dressers, a sea of pillows spread across the mattress, and seated on a chair was a box of toys. Vibrators, dildos, blinding mask, and even handcuffs.

"I hope it's not too much." He said behind you. “I'm afraid I am rustier than I'd like to be.”

"Oh, no, it should be fine. It's fine." Nervously you sat on the bed. "Should I take my clothes off or...?"

"Please," Neuvilette sank to one knee, sliding between yours in a single, swift motion. His hands were on your thighs, parting them to give him more space. His heat sent a thrill of excitement through your core. "Allow me."

Slowly his thin, blue fingers slid beneath the hem of your skirt, just the tip poking beneath the elastic of your panties. He pressed his mouth to the inside of your knee, placing modest and thrilling kisses up your thigh, stopping just inches from your apex.

Your breath caught in your throat from the devilish glean in his pearlescent eyes. Just the corner of his stoic mouth was curled into a self-satisfied smirk. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that the judge of Fontaine, aka your ex-boss, was a tease.

Just a hair further, Neuvilette whispered into your skin, his mouth so close you could feel the scrape of his teeth, "Is this to your liking, my lady?"

Heat rushed to your already red cheeks. You covered your mouth to try and hide the embarrassment. "It's weird to hear you call me that. Just call me what you normally would."

"Doesn't your name seem too... familiar? We no longer work together and I am bestowing the Oratrice's punishment onto you." As he spoke he slid his fingers around your ass, sinking into the soft flesh there, feeling you under your panties to pull you closer to him. "I should offer you some dignity, shouldn't I?" Neuvilette laid his cheek on your thigh, his white pale skin soft and practically glowing compared to yours. He blinked faux innocent eyes up at you, watching for your reaction.

"Fine." You huffed, your embarrassment and excitement only growing. "Just until we're done."

"Understood." And then his face vanished beneath the skirt of your dress.

You shrieked as you felt the thick length of his tongue against your cotton-covered cunt. Instantly you tried to close your legs, but Neuvilette's arms were under your thighs, strong and soft in the casing of his silk shirt. His thin but strong fingers squeezed your ass, pressing your clothed folds as close to his mouth as he could.

It was like he was making out with your crotch, the way his jaw worked and tongue explored, needy and smooth.

Suddenly Neuvilette pulled back, lifting your hips as he went. Your back hit the mattress as his movements intensified, his desire seeping into the fabric of your underwear as your core did the same. He groaned hungrily against your clit, the top of his white head bobbing between your thighs.

A noise you'd never made before threatened to squeak out of you and you bit your wrist to hold it back.

And just as suddenly as Neuvilette's intensity took over, it vanished. He lifted himself up, long snake tongue hanging out of his mouth as he caught his breath. His pale cheeks flushed red, pearl eyes unfocused. "Forgive my enthusiasm, I'm afraid my rut will be beginning soon. It's why I wanted to begin quickly, otherwise, you'll be trapped here with me for over a week and I won't stop even if you do conceive."

You weren't sure what to say to that, so you just nodded.

It was then you realized he hadn't stopped just to excuse himself. Your underwear was suddenly passing over your thighs and on the floor before you could even properly process it.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nodded.

Neuvilette leaned his face into yours, his mouth on your cheek then the corner of your lips. One hand traced teasing circles across your thigh, your bare cunt unignorable. And the other pressed against your upper back, working the zipper down as he pulled you closer. And just when the zipper was eased all the way open, his fingers ghosted against your folds.

You gasped and that's when Neuvilette captured your mouth in a kiss. Just the tip of his tongue was in your mouth, probing but patient, feeling everything he could without invading even as his hand did just the opposite.

Within a second, one finger was buried up to the knuckle inside you. You were already so wet, accommodating his thin digit with ease. Both of you groaned, him from your sucking wet heat and you from the pleasant feel of him against your soft walls.

His tongue moved a little further in, coaxing your own with his forked tip. It felt strange dancing over your taste buds, asking you to meet his enthusiastic lust.

Hesitantly you raised your tongue, carefully poking out to prod Neuvilette's teeth, tracing the path of his gums to his—you gasped at the sensation of his fangs, dagger-sharp and smooth as marble.

Neuvilette pulled away just enough to murmur against your lips, "You're okay. Did my teeth scare you?"

"Just surprised," you murmured.

A softness came over his face. Neuvilette kissed your cheek, then your jaw, slowly bringing his mouth to the stunning curve of your shoulder. Gently he pressed his front teeth to the skin, letting you feel their shape, then he opened wider to scrape his fangs on your skin. His teeth closed, exciting pain and a burning want inside you.

Your core fluttered around his fingers, suddenly threatening to snap. Unconsciously your hips bucked against his hand, asking for more.

"So sensitive," Neuvilette chuckled against your skin, breath hot. Goosebumps fluttered to life. "But I must ask you not to finish yet, my lady, I want it to be when you take me in."

Before you had a chance to process what he'd said, you were on your back, cunt empty as Neuvilette pulled back to unbuckle his pants. Black fabric slid away to reveal two blue erect lengths. Each of them was softly ridged and unmistakably inhuman.

White bumps lined the sides, growing larger towards the base of his cocks. Along the tops and bottoms were blue, scale-like ridges that followed the same gradient pattern as the rest of his lengths.

"I won't make you take both tonight,” Neuvilette was panting, his chest rising and falling with his eagerness, “but if our first attempt at fertilization fails, then using both may become a necessity." You could barely hear him, watching each head softly twitch with his desire. His cool hand cradled your heated cheek, forcing your gaze up to meet his. Burning pearl eyes commanded your attention. "My lady... Do you understand? I want to hear you say it."

You swallowed. You could barely imagine taking him in tonight, let alone taking two inside of you. "O-okay. I understand."

“Understand what?” He pressed, the ghost of a smug grin slipping into the corner of his mouth.

“That I might h-have to take both.”

Neuvilette seemed to relax, leaning in to nuzzle the side of your face with his own. His lips pressed against your throat as his hands slid lower, gently sliding your arms from your dress. He didn't wait to take off your bra, letting your breasts bounce free before engulfing them in his hands.

His mouth moved lower, breath coming fast as he enveloped the doughy flesh, teasing your nipples by squeezing them between his fingers. He relished your softness. Neuvilette brought his mouth to your hardening nipples, sinking his teeth inside of your breast, leaving bruises in the shape of his desire.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I can’t wait any longer.”

Neuvilette reached for a bottle of lube, pouring enough in his hand to cover one of his members. He pulled back, lubed his cock and aimed it right at your core. The head pushed in suddenly, stretching you out, filling you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. Your fingers curled into the sheets, back arching as if trying to help him inside.

“Good girl,” he breathed, pressing in. The first ridge popped inside. “Just keep being good for me.”

Slowly, painfully slowly, each ridge slipped inside, strange and lumpy and pressing right against the top of your core, pushing up and into your g-spot so effortlessly you nearly came. And he still wasn't done.

The thick base of his cock began to press in, the ridges on the side struggling to squeeze into your cunt. It occured to you then that those ridges were for competition, to scrape out the seed of competing males. Knowing something so animalist, so feral and possessive existed on someone like Neuvilette who was virtuous with his patience and had a gentlemanly demeanor... It made your core flutter.

Neuvilette sighed, rolling his hips with notable frustration. “I fear I won't be able to get all the way inside. I feel something blocking me.” He shivered a little, his hands gripping your thighs with impatient squeezes. “I don't want to hurt you, but it's disappointing I can't go further.” His hips rolled again, as if testing if your body would really bar him from fully sheathing himself.

Gods, you felt so full. It was hard to focus on what he was saying, especially when the tip of his cock head kept twitching against your cervix in time with its twin hovering over your belly. Its shadow smoothed the bulge below your navel, a barely noticeable rise in your skin. Precum dribbled into your belly button.

He felt so good. Your mind cleared as the only thing you could focus on was the sensation of his cock bulging out of you. Your hips bucked, rubbing him up against your sweet spot, pleasurable shivers rising gooseflesh along your skin. You could probably cum just from humping him like this, forcing his cock head into that sweet spot over and over while his pearlescent eyes drank you in. You shivered again at the thought, fingers curling into the sheets as your core squeezed him excitedly.

Slowly, Neuvilette tested your cunt, pulling out an inch and rolling right back in. His breathing strained as he held himself back, trying so hard to keep himself trapped in the gentlemanly facade he showed the world as the animal he was vied for control.

Wet, pleased sounds escaped your cunt with each movement, eagerly swallowing his cock as best as it could. Pressure compressed against your cervix and just above, causing that sweet knot of release to tighten ever so slightly. The purpose of your union to Neuvilette vanished, only the animal need for more fuzzing over your thoughts.

He was barely moving and yet that the pressure of him, the space he took up inside you, numbed anything but the fire in your nerves. Your hips rocked to meet his, toes curling as you tried to get some kind of purchase under you.

Your clit ached for stimulation but the words wouldn't form in your mouth, too busy slumping open to leak your breathy moans. How did you become such a mess so quickly?

You reached between your legs where his cock was currently making mush of your cunt to relieve your aching but just as you pressed the pads of your fingers to your core, Neuvilette's hands were around your wrists. He pinned them above your head, his firm abdomen flush against your feverish belly. Feeling him press on the bulge of his cock with his other cock and his body, practically squashing his cock inside you and the hilt of his cock pushing up into your clit—

A high pitched whine escaped you as you bucked, head going blank. So close, so close...

“No need to rush,” he purred. “We have all night.”

“Neuvillette,” you cried, “please.” You didn't know what you were begging for. More? To cum?

“So impatient,” he huffed. He inhaled your scent, ghosting his lips over the marks he'd left on your throat. A light sheen of sweat began to glisten on his white skin. “I suppose if you're so wanting, I shouldn't hold back anymore myself.”

Hold back? You'd barely processed what he said when his shallow, smooth thrusts erupted into an animal frenzy.

His body slammed into yours, his bed rocking violently, practically throwing you to engulf more of his cock. Punishing, brutal, animal thrusts bounced you against him, leaving you to scramble to hold onto him for the ride. Pleasure burst like stars each time he rammed into your cervix, your nails burying into his back, legs vice tight around his narrow hips. Neuvilette seemed to relish your reaction, an animal purr escaping his throat.

He panted above you, sweat beading on his temples. White strands of hair stuck to his forehead, his cheeks. The clawed shaped of his blue-white fingers bit into his sheets for purchase, to better breed your criminal cunt. Suddenly the god-like gentleman Judge of Fontaine was disheveled and real and a man with human lust. You were probably the first human to see this side of him, and maybe even the last.

The thought nearly sobered you out of your pleasure haze until suddenly his sharp teeth sank into your collarbone. Pain erupted like white lightning and suddenly your core was snapping, mouth open to scream as you came.

Your wetness flooded down his balls, practically dripping but Neuvilette's pace didn't let up. He was moving faster if anything, shallower thrusts to humps against your cervix.

Your toes curled listening to your drenched core being churned, the sound so shamelessly slutty and crude it was nearly impossible to image it was coming from the space between your thighs.

A high whimper sounded in the back of Neuvilette's throat, his thick cock spasming inside you excitedly. “Close,” he grunted into your skin, breath hot. “So fucking close.” Those big teeth met your flesh again, leaving marks on the untouched side of your throat. That whimpering noise came again in time with his movements until his hips were hitching, bucking so hard against you nearly thought he'd managed to get his full length in. And then, melting his pelvis to yours, Neuvilette came.

Something thick, wet, and warm burst inside of you. It felt so strange, like an extra little pleasure right against your sweet spot. Your core twitched as you blinked away white desire. You hadn't realized you were panting until the world settled back under you, the bed still as Neuvilette recovered above you.

Slowly he let his weight pull him down, resting his head in the crook between your throat and shoulder. For what felt like a long time, he laid there breathing, nestled between your thighs and against your cervix. Then, slowly pulled out, standing up to his full height. Even sweaty with messy hair, he was beautiful. “I'll get you some water. I think Mondstat spring water would best suit our theme of tonight.” He didn't wait for an answer, leaving the room.

You went to sit up and felt everything gush out of you—lube, slick, cum. Something was surreal here but you didn't want to acknowledge it, naming what it was would make it actually real.

Carrying two tall glasses of water, Neuvilette returned. Condensation frosted the glass and you were grateful for something cold after how hot you'd just been.

Neuvilette knocked back his glass like a shot. Feverish excitement lit up his pearlescent eyes as they focused on you, slit pupils blown wide. “I think for our next round, a low angle might be best. Hips up and head down, like a stretch or yoga pose. I'm afraid I don't know the exact name of the position.”

Your ears burned hearing such perverse words come from your former boss’ mouth. It took you a second to realize exactly what he was talking about. You weren't done with your punishment, not for tonight anyways. After taking a careful gulp of water you asked, “Um, just how many times are going to be working on my punishment, tonight?”

The air was crisp out as Lenny led Bailey to the edge of the manor where the forest met their property lines. He didn’t enjoy coming here as it brought up bad memories of that awful wolf attack, but this small section was the only section without cameras or microphones for their family to spy on them with. The topic he wanted to discuss with his older sister was…a delicate one to say the least. One he didn’t want getting back to the rest of their siblings lest they tell Father.

Father could never know about this discussion. If he did…it would be Lenny’s head served on a platter rather than wagyu steak tonight.

“Uh, Lenny, why are we all the way out here? You know how Papa feels about us being near the woods. Especially after what happened last time.” Bailey eyed the forest warily. It felt like at any moment that awful wolf would jump out to finish what it had started.

“Because I need to talk to you about something. Something that can not get back to Father or our other siblings under ANY circumstances. And no, this isn’t just another mission to try and get rid of you. We learned very quickly not to try that again.” With her constant glancing at him and their surroundings, he felt like he had to clarify that quickly. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for getting that idea. The last time he said he wanted to spend quality time with her, he’d nearly abandoned her in the middle of the forest, and they were both nearly eaten by a wolf because of it.

Bailey still felt a little on edge, but mustered up a small smile. She wasn’t one to hold grudges, even if he deserved it. Whatever he wanted to ask must be really important if he came to her of all people. As a big sister, she’d listen to her little brother.

“Well, we’re here. And I’m listening. So…let it out.”

Lenny glanced to the side with a furrowed brow as he mulled over how to start. It was so hard being vulnerable around anyone, even family. He loved his siblings, but they would never understand. If he had brought it up to them they would have laughed in his face before storming off to tell Father “for his own good”. But…Bailey was different. She was a Wigglestein, but she wasn’t cruel like Father or cold like them. Maybe…Maybe he could afford to be vulnerable. Just this once.

“You…You like that Cree girl, right?” He began.

Bailey tilted her head to the side as she heard that question. Why was he so interested in her love life all of a sudden?

“Um…Well…Its complicated with her, but…y-ya. I guess I do like her.”

Lenny inhaled deeply as he steepled his fingers together.

“And…how did you…figure out you liked her?”

Bailey’s brow furrowed as she struggled to find an answer to his question. She was just a teenager, young and dumb and crushes were a new playing field that the sheltered ice mage still had yet to tackle. Especially with someone as stand offish as Cree.

“Well…I guess…I started talking to her one day and…and after a little while I got butterflies in my stomach whenever I saw her. She made me feel warm and fuzzy whenever we brushed hands. And…I guess I just started liking being around her.” An awkward smile graced Bailey’s lips as a soft pink grew on her cheeks. Just thinking about Cree made her feel all bubbly inside. Lenny mulled over her words as the pieces to this nauseating puzzle began to fall into place. Butterflies in the stomach, check…Feeling warm and fuzzy, check…liking being around someone…check, he supposed… His thoughts circled back to the girl who was making feel all…out of sorts. Like…like nothing a Delightful child should feel about some feral brat. Yet…

Circe Sinclair…The bane of their existence. The one brat who wasn’t afraid of them in any capacity. It didn’t matter what technology they brought to the fight, it didn't matter what they said they’d do, she would pounce and hiss and scratch like no other kid was brave enough to do, even at the detriment of her own well-being. Each of them had the bite marks to prove it.

Despite being smaller than her, the little brat had the bravery (or stupidity) to go toe to toe with Alessandra of all people. The little brat who wasn’t afraid to tell off Bruce. The stupid brat who always had their hair in their face, who always had paint and stickers covering their face. The little…the little brat who…

The little brat who didn’t kick up a fuss when the teacher paired him up for their baby raising assignment because he was the odd one out while his siblings paired with each other…The little brat who actually had been a pleasant partner and snagged him an easy A despite his less than stellar paternal instincts.

Circe, who…he found himself enjoying the company of despite their clashing ideologies. Circe, whom he suddenly found himself partnering with during assignments, even when he wasn’t being forced to work with her. Circe who was strangly endearing even with her less than polite and tidy mannerisms.

Butterflies in his stomach…Yes, he had been getting those though he initially chalked it up to something he had eaten or nerves. But then the warm and fuzzy feelings had begun. He could say it was the warmer weather, but two symptoms in a row? This could only mean one thing…

He…He Lenny Wigglestein had a crush on that brat Circe Sinclair.

The warm and fuzzies of finally acknowledging that fact were short-lived as dread overtook him. 

Circe who was always getting in the middle of adult plans to keep pesky brats like her under control. Circe who had made enemies of most if not all adults in the city. 

Circe Sinclair who was on top of Father’s ‘I hate this child so much, I will murder them on sight’ up there with Nigel fucking Uno, how in the fuck did she get above even Nigel fucking Uno?

Sweat drenched his palms as his breathing picked up. It suddenly felt very, very claustrophobic in his helmet. Was it always this hot in here? Why couldn’t he breath?

“Lenny?”

He could barely hear Bailey’s voice as his thoughts clouded his mind.

“Father’s going to kill me.” He managed to mumble out. His breathing was picking up as he struggled to breath inside the confines of his helmet. His hands flew up to claw at it, struggling to get it off. Why was it so damn tight all of a sudden? 

And his heart. It was pounding in his chest. Was he dying? Was he having a heart attack? Was it a panic attack? He only ever had those when they failed Father.

Failed Father? He hadn’t done anything. No, no he did do something. Something terrible. He fell in love with the enemy, with a feral stupid brat like Circe. What would Father say if he found out? No, not if. When. He knew everything. Did he already know? Was he planning an awful punishment just for him?

“L-Lenny!”

“Father’s going to kill me.” He repeated as tears began to roll down his cheeks. His hands gripped the mouthpiece of his helmet as he wrestled with it. Get it off, get it off. He couldn’t breath. Someone, someone help him get it off!

He could feel another pair of hands grab onto his shoulders. Father? Had he come for him? Was this place bugged all along and he’d heard everything?

“Lenny! Snap out of it, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“FATHERS GOING TO FUCKING KILL ME!” He shrieked out in terror as he finally managed to pull off the constricting helmet. He tossed it far away from him as he inhaled deeply, desperate for air. It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough. He still couldn’t breath. His hands shot up to claw at his throat, desperate to yank off whatever was making him unable to breath.

Now that it was off, Bailey could see the tears running down his cheeks.

“H-He’s going to, he’s going to kill me. A-A Delightful child shouldn’t feel like this. He hates her, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill her. He’s going to-” 

He was cut off as he felt gentle hands carefully peel his hands off his neck. As he felt cool skin instead of Father’s scorching heat, he finally allowed himself to look up. He could see concerned blue eyes instead of yellow ones burning with hatred. Bailey?

“Lenny…I need you to breath, okay? Ten in, ten out.” It was a trick her doctor Persephone had taught her whenever she would panic during sessions. It helped her…maybe it would help her brother.

Lenny’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to make sense of her words. Ten in. Ten out.

Finally, he slowly took in air for ten seconds, then let it back out for ten. In, out. In, out.

It was…it was starting to help ground him and bring him back. Father wasn’t there. He didn’t know. Only Bailey knew…and despite their differences, Lenny knew she was a safe space. She wouldn’t tell.

“Ten in…ten out…” He repeated the exercise for a minute before he finally felt he could stop. He was still a trembling, teary eyed mess, but at least he could breath again.

He felt so low letting her see him like this. A Delightful child didn’t show such weak emotions. This was a dog-eat-dog world. Weakness meant you’d be torn apart and thrown to the wolves. Yet here he was, crying and sniffling and snotty like one of those stupid snot-nosed KND members. It was embarrassing. Yet, even as he wiped his tears on his jacket sleeve, Bailey only looked at him with concern and compassion. “Oh Lenny…You think Papa will be angry that you like Circe?”

Lenny sniffled as he slowly nodded.

“Have you heard the way he talks about her? He calls her all kinds of names, he encourages Alessandra to get into fights with her and gets upset if she comes back having lost. He hates her, I just don’t know why and...and I already know he’ll hate it if he finds out I’m friends with her, let alone have a crush on her.”

Bailey looked to the side as she gnawed on the inside of her cheek nervously. She wanted to say something, anything to reassure her brother that Father wouldn’t be mad but…she knew he was right. Circe was a kind and respectful kid, but she actively fought against adult tyranny along with the KND. Not only that, but he seemed to have some kind of personal vendetta against her, although she didn’t know why. He just seemed to hate her despite having a crush on her older sister. If he did find out…Who knew what he might do?

“...Then…Papa just won’t find out. Okay?”

His stomach churned at the thought of keeping anything from Father. It went against all his teachings that had been drilled into his head. A Delightful child didn’t keep things from their Father or their fellow Delightful siblings. But…

Yes, he could do this. He’d keep it from Father…Just this once…he wanted something that was truly his. Something light and care free, even if it was just a silly friendship with a feral girl. Just this once…

“O…Okay…”

Bailey offered up a smile as she let go of his hands. She wanted to pull him in for a hug, but they weren’t there just yet. Besides, he was never one for physical displays of affection.

“Cree baby sits Circe a lot…Sometimes I go to help because she’s a handful…Maybe you can come with me. You can call it a spy mission to get Miss.Persephone’s secrets or whatever.”

Lenny was silent before a moment before he slowly nodded. He liked that…Being able to see Circe outside of school might be…nice.

The grass crunched softly as Bailey went over to his fallen helmet and held it out for him to take.

“Now, dry your tears and lets go home…I’m sure Papa will be missing us.”

He looked between his helmet and back up at Bailey who was still smiling so softly. He didn’t know why she was helping him after how he treated her, but…but he was just glad that she had been willing to listen and was willing to lie for him. Just like a big sister would.

He wondered if this was how Circe felt with Persephone as her sister. If it was…he supposed he liked having a big sister…

He reached out and took his helmet, placing it back over his head. He hoped it would hide the tears still staining his cheeks. Hopefully his other siblings would still be napping by the time they made it back, otherwise they may have questions. But Lenny was a smart boy, he’d weasel his way out of it just like he always did.

“..Bailey?” He suddenly piped up as they walked together. Bailey looked down as she heard his voice.

“Ya?”

“...Thank you…”

Bailey’s eyes widened for a moment before an even wider smile formed on her lips. She kept close to Lenny, glancing occasionally at the tree line to make sure no wolves were stalking about.